


Holding The Wolf By The Ears

by orphan_account



Series: Insatiable [4]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Begging, Claude "LEMME SMASH" von Riegen, Edging, Established Relationship, F/M, Femdom, Finger Sucking, Ice Play, Male Submissive, Men Crying, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Post-Time Skip, Temperature Play, Tied To A Chair, Wax Play, feat guards who probably want to stay out of the house, is there a specific tag for that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 09:33:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20225647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Byleth and Claude head out to a town to unveil a monument that symbolizes the unification of their respective nations. Naturally, they get a bit frisky in private.





	Holding The Wolf By The Ears

**Author's Note:**

> "Holding The Wolf By The Ears" is a term that basically means "to live dangerously," which pretty much sums up Byleth's and Claude's sex life quite nicely.
> 
> Beta'd by my sis, who doesn't even play Fire Emblem. :')

Seteth gives Claude a look disapproving look for what feels like the millionth time that day, “It is _ imperative _that you bring some guards for protection.” Seteth says, with his usual exasperated tone.

Claude shrugs, “Yeah, and I’m not sure you’re aware but Byleth and I defeated Nemesis. I think we’re going to be fine in that department.” 

“At least bring Catherine with you—My Lord, what on earth do you need that rope for? You do realize you have servants who will pack for you, don't you?” 

He swings some rope around, a bright red material clearly only meant to tie things up with, “Thought I’d take this opportunity to do some hunting. Need some rope to help with the carrying.”

Seteth sighs, and rubs his temples. “My Lord, need I remind you that you’re not going on vacation—”

“We’re going on business, we know,” that was Byleth, and, ever the diplomat, she adds, “We’ll bring Catherine and a small contingent of guards.” 

Seteth, seemingly placated for now, nods towards Byleth. “My Lady, thank you. I’ll begin preparations for the carriage.” He leaves, but not before giving Claude another look of annoyance. 

Claude packs the rope and gives Byleth a cheeky grin. “Giving the guards a vacation too, now?”

Byleth returns his grin, and nods. They had been invited to a small town nestled right between the border of Almyra and Fódlan, somewhere between Myrrdin and Airmid. They were to unveil a monument—a statue of both a pegasus and wyvern rearing up—that’s supposed to symbolize the unification of Byleth’s and Claude’s respective nations. The invitation letter sent to them had referred to Byleth as Eisner and Claude as von Riegen, despite the fact the two of them had joined both their last names when they married—becoming Eisner von Riegen. Byleth had joked that if their children followed their practice with their spouses they’d eventually have names longer than entire page, to which Claude merely replied, “_ Nobles love long names! It’s part of our charm.” _

Despite the fact that this was supposed to be a ceremony about the two nations coming together, it was obvious to the two of them that wasn’t the primary goal in mind. The town, while small, was the quintessential tourist trap. It was host to an entire bevy of festivals, both Fódlan and Almyran, and was one of the prime spots to go stargazing and to watch the aurora lights. It was clear that the town was using this as an opportunity to get even further exposure for tourism, the visiting of their new monarchs no doubt cause a prime chance to gain some revenue.

But, well, a vacation was a vacation. And Byleth and Claude was about to let an opportunity to slip away from paperwork for a few days slip them by.

-

“Bit of an odd time and place for a manicure, don’t you think?”

The carriage ride would take a fair amount of time, and Byleth had settled in the rickety rhythm and had intended to try to sleep it out until they got there. Claude, meanwhile, took it upon himself to slip off his silken seat directly across Byleth and instead go on his knees in front of her. _ “Give me your hand,” _he had said, mischief filling his voice. He then produced a manicure filer from one of his many pockets, and began his work, even though it was a bit awkward from the shaking of the carriage’s movements.

Claude pursed his lips, and in a voice clearly mocking Seteth he said, “It would do the Queen of Fódlan no good for her to have chipped nails. Decorum is everything, blah blah blah.” He began to gently file her nails, soon getting into a rhythm he was familiar with.

Claude had become quite the talented manicurist and pedicurist, taking it as a hobby a few months ago. He had procured quite the extensive set of tools, liquids and gels to give Byleth “_ nails so good that it would make whatever Goddess left out there supremely jealous, _” as Claude had put it. One evening, he had painstakingly washed and painted her nails so that each was adorned with the Golden Deer insignia. If Claude wasn’t a talented orator or feast planner, Byleth mused he would be quite the successful beautician. 

Obviously, Claude couldn’t bring his entire set of tools and materials, opting to just bring a filer and cuticle clipper. Once had entertained this hobby, it quickly became one of his favourite moments of intimacy he would have with Byleth. He finally began to understand Ignatz’s woes as well, as he began to know the feeling the exhilaration and anxiety of painstakingly working on a piece and finally finishing, being assailed by a sense of pride when both he and Byleth were pleased with the outcome.

But Ignatz works on still canvases, while Claude’s are living. Once, Byleth had shifted ever so slightly, but the action had led to piece of her nail suddenly getting chipped. It had ruined Claude’s plans to make an intricate symmetrical pattern that resembled the stained glasses one might find in a monastery. The feelings he felt that day could only be described as a mixture of dismay and mortification one would get when a tower of cards they had spent so much time piling up is destroyed by accident.

Now, Claude obviously couldn’t give Byleth any sort of patterning, opting to just give her a simple filing. It was a good as an excuse as any to have his wife’s hands in his for an extended period of time. Byleth didn’t miss how his thumb would continuously caress her hand as he worked. After feeling his hot breath on her fingertips and seeing Claude admire his handiwork, Byleth spoke.

“Don’t you usually have some sort of liquid you put my hands after this? And before? Did you skip a step?”

He looked up to her with an expression that told her this was _ exactly _he wanted her to say. He winked—if Byleth had a gold coin for every time he had winked at her for the past few years, she’s sure she’d accumulate more than the nation’s entire treasury—and Claude squared his shoulders, presenting himself as he’s a proud peacock.

“Ah, my dearest Lady. Therein lies the problem! I had no time to smuggle in the entirety of my pristine manicure set. Whatever shall I do…”

He fluttered his eyes at her and flicked his gaze to her hands, licking his lips. Seeing this, Byleth smirked. She could take a guess about where this was going. 

Taking one of her hands in his, Claude leans down opens his mouth, promptly sticking her fingers down his throat. Byleth’s knuckles bump into his teeth and his throat clenches around the tips of her fingers for several seconds. A sudden bump in the road makes her finger vault further into his throat. There’s a furrowing of his brows but he doesn’t gag. Impressive. 

Hollowing out his cheeks, he makes distinctive _ slurping _noises as he slowly removed her fingers from his mouth. With her now damp fingers released from his sinful mouth, Claude begins to slowly lick each of them while fluttering his bedroom eyes at her. Finished licking her fingers from top to bottom; he closes his lips around the tips of her digits to suck and to rake his tongue over them again. Finally, he releases her again and gently places her hand back on her lap, as if he didn’t just deepthroat her fingers. 

He keeps his sultry gaze on her as he clears his throat and quips softly, “I may not have warm water for you to soak on, my Lady, but I hope my mouth will suffice.” Another wink. He looks at her with a sense of smug victory.

It takes every ounce of Byleth’s self-control not to throw him on the ground and to stuff her other hand down his throat, far enough to _ actually _make him gag this time. She thinks he’ll look quite delicious with her fingers inside his mouth while he’s crying.

Before she can give him her other hand, the carriage stops. Claude takes the moment to scurry back to his seat and Byleth quickly rubs her hand on her clothes to dry it. He pats down his own clothes and quirks an eyebrow at her, voice filled with mirth. “There already? I guess time really does fly when you’re having fun.”

The door is swiftly opened by Catherine, she gives them a small bow before speaking, “My lieges. We’ve arrived, please follow me.” She bows again, ever the image of the perfect and pristine knight, and begins walking to their destination.

Claude steps out first with the intention of holding out his hand for Byleth, she doesn’t immediately take it, opting to instead casually tangle her hand into his hair before pulling back suddenly. He gives rapid and breathy gasps as Byleth nips the base of his neck, then she consumes his mouth with hers. It doesn’t last long, probably not wanting to get _ too _ much attention from the guards, so she releases him quickly; but not before giving his bottom lip a small nibble.

Stepping out, she holds his hand and does the leading as they walk to where the monument will be unveiled.

-

The unveiling of the monument goes on without a hitch with the mayor of the town touting a speech befitting someone whose expertise is tourism. Her fluttery and saccharine voice exuding confidence that enraptures any who listen. 

Claude and Byleth sat behind her, waiting their turn for their own grandiose speeches. Claude felt a hand brush the back of neck and he immediately leans into it, briefly fluttering his eyes closed. Oh, what he’s give to just lay on her lap right about now. The hand leaves his neck after a new rubs before it lands on his thigh, rubbing gentle circles.

Claude silently curses but mentally utters a small thanks when they’re called upon for their speeches. He’s thankful because they might have gone into _ dangerous _territory with the caresses, but is disappointed all the same because, well, what man doesn’t like it when his wife touches him like that?

He’ll just have to wait for his scheme to play out so he can be touched more. 

Their speeches are met with a round of applause.

-

They retire to a fancy but also not-modest-in-the-slightest estate that is reserved for _ “only the most important visitors,” _as the mayor a happily supplies, redness filling her puffy cheeks. Historically, the estate had belonged to a famed female knight from many years ago, who had procured many riches in her exploits. To the locals she’s a hero, to the tourists she’s a fanciful story often compared to Catherine. 

Dinner was divine, clearly the town had been putting out all the stops to impress their monarchs. Sitting across from one another, Claude didn’t miss how Byleth would rub her foot against his legs, getting dangerously close to sneaking in between his limbs, but not_ quiiiiiiite _ going further than that. 

Truly, he had married a temptress. Not that he would want it any other way. 

Finishing their meal, Byleth had explored some of the rooms of their new temporary abode—“_ There’s a fully functioning bar downstairs! There’s even billiards and darts! _”—afterwards, she suggested they’d relax in one of the main foyers with tea before going out stargazing.

Claude took this opportunity to set his plan into motion. Wrapping his arm around her waist he peppered her cheek with kisses before saying: “My love! I’m afraid that we’ll have to imbibe in tea time a little while later. Catherine wants to speak with you, she’s outside near the fork in the road.”

She blinks at him, looking somewhat unconvinced. “Really, when? And _ why _couldn’t she tell me herself? It’s not like we’ve been apart for very long.”

Claude gives her pout, releasing her waist to give her an over exaggerated shrug. “You wound me with your suspicion! What if Catherine really is waiting for you, all alone at some fork in the road? That’s no way to treat your most loyal knight.”

“Alright, I’ll head out,” she gives him the stink eye, “No doubt I’ll be accosted by some guards when I immediately step foot outside. I may take some time, alright?”

_ That’s what I’m counting on. _

A sly smile forms on Claude’s lips, “Don’t worry, we’re here for a couple of days. If need be we can go stargazing another night.” There’s a wink and a peck on the cheek as Byleth turns and leaves.

Rubbing his hands together in excitement, Claude quickly makes his way upstairs to his and Byleth’s bedroom, giving strict orders to the guards stationed inside to stay at the base of the stairs.

Every guard nods in acknowledgement but one guard nervously speaks to Claude, “But my Lord, we’ve been given orders by—”

“Really?” Claude narrows his eyes and puts a hand on his chin as if in thought. “And I distinctly remember that I’m a King here, and I’m _ pretty _sure that means I outrank our dear Seteth.”

The guard swallows and meekly. _ This guy must be new, _Claude muses, and taking pity on the young man he clasps a hand on the guard’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, just relax by the stairs. Actually, on second thought, this town is such a lovely place to visit. Take the rest of the day off to relax. Would be a shame to go to a tourist trp of a town without being a tourist, wouldn’t you say? Consider that an order of the King.” Giving him a wink, Claude begins making his way up the stairs. 

“My man,” another guard clasps his hands on the shoulder of the one Claude had just finished speaking to. “You’ll get used to it after a while. Our lieges are, shall we say, eccentric. There’s a reason their bedchambers are soundproof.”

-

Closing the door, Claude quickly got to work. The room they’ve been given is one that could compete with their own bedchambers back home. It’s clear they’ve put in some new furniture to make the place more “royal,” there’s chairs with large, thick cushions that’s a strawberry red colour, the legs and back of the furniture lined with gold. They’re a stark contrast to somewhat plain looking wooden floor. Clearly, someone forgot to add carpet that was just as gaudy, and that someone would likely be fired if he or Byleth mentions it. He makes a mental note to keep quiet about it.

Moving the chair to the middle of the room, which made an _ extraordinary _ amount of noise, Claude quickly begins setting up the candles he brought, once he finished lighting them he spread the rose petals on the ground. While he’d never admit it, Claude was a romantic at heart, and afterall; it wouldn’t be very kingly of him if he didn’t put some effort in making some ambiance for this evening. 

Next came the removal of his clothing, he quickly picked them up after he had haphazardly discarded them on the floor—_ ambiance, Claude, ambiance!— _after neatly folding them to the side, he took one of his many available sashes before seating himself on the chair.

He might be sitting here for a while before Byleth comes back, and he hopes the candles are long enough to last, but at least the chair is awfully comfy. Now he has to make sure he won’t fall asleep on it while waiting.

Using the rope he brought with himself, Claude tied his feet to the legs of the chair, before using the sash to blindfold himself. While blind, he is still able to tie his non-dominant hand, although it involves some fumbling.

_ Practice makes perfect. _

With three of his limbs tied, with varying degrees of firmness, and his eyes blinded; Claude relaxes into the chair and absentmindedly begins to tap at the armrest. While he’s confident enough to tie his non-dominant hand while blindfolded—it’s not like he did particularly complicated knots—he doesn’t hold that same self-assurance in himself to tie his dominant hand with, well, his dominant hand. Byleth will have to take care of that.

-

Claude is woken up from his _ I’ll just rest my eyes _ stupor to the sounds of footsteps rapidly ascending the stairs. He squares his shoulders and steels himself for what’s about to happen, slightly disappointed he won’t be able to see her reaction.

“First you tell me to meet with Catherine when she isn’t there, then I suddenly have a guard telling me that you want to speak with me because of an urgent matter—” the door suddenly opens, “—Just what is going—_ oh _.” 

Claude gives a lazy wave and grins as he can hear Byleth frantically move to close the door, with a slam loud enough he thinks every guard in and outside the house has heard it.

“Hey there, By. As you can see I’m a little tied up,” he inwardly cringes for saying that but continues on with his script regardless, “but I’d like to be fully tied up, mind giving me a hand? I’m _ good _, but lamentedly I’m not that good.” 

He hears a huff but he knows Byleth is smiling. He hears slow, almost calculating footsteps, either she’s stepping over his rose petals or she’s purposefully making him wait. Probably both. Once she does reach him she makes quick work of tying his hand, her knots are lot more practiced and firmer than his considering she has significantly more experience than him when it comes to this. When she’s done with his hand, he feels her work on the knots. 

“Aw, Teach, my work isn’t good enough for you?” No sooner as he said that he sucks in a sudden breath when Byleth slaps him on his thigh, hard. The slight stinging makes his cock twitch. Once Byleth is done doing her work on the other ropes he gives them experimental tugs. While he probably could have freed himself from his own rope-work by just pulling it at once or twice, Byleth’s knots leaves him completely trapped. He won’t be getting out, not to mention it’s _ tight, _not tight enough to cut off circulation but tight enough for him to know he’ll be having ropeburn for a while after this.

When she’s done making sure he’s _ secure _he hears her stand up and say nothing for a while. Just when he’s about to ask her about that, he hears her walk away from him. 

“Quite the set-up you have here, I’m glad you didn’t manage to burn the house down.” From her voice comes from, he guesses she’s by some of the candles. 

He blows a breath and says in a tone that’s in mock offense, “My Lady! You wound me with your lack of confidence in me! Can’t a guy do something romantic for his wife?” He waggles his eyebrows but is unsure just how successful he is at it, considering the sash over his eyes. 

When he hears start to walk towards him again his chest blooms with excitement and it’s difficult to keep his breathing in check. _ She’s been so teasing recently, now she has no choice now but to touch me! _ He cackles internally like some madman he’d read in a novel, _ with my hands tied and my eyes blinded I’m sure I’ll be even more receptive to her touches. Touchmetouchmetouchme-!! _

Rather than a touch—he had inwardly hope she would trail a newly manicured finger down his collarbone and chest—he gets sudden, searing pain as something is dropped on his thigh before it quickly fizzles out and instead he feels something harden in its place. He had given a shrill shriek before clamping his mouth suddenly shut, hoping it wasn’t quite loud enough to alert any guards. 

“Did you honestly think I _ wouldn’t _ use the candles you so conveniently laid out for me?” And Goddess, he can _ hear _the shit-eating grin on her face. 

Before he can even begin to articulate a smarmy reply he feels another drop of wax fall on his other thigh, and he whines in response. His cock is half-hard now.

Claude then feels dripples of hot wax hit his chest and he twitches and squirms as if the seat he’s sitting in is suddenly uncomfortable. He gives low, breathy pants as he feels the slight burning sensations dance across his skin. Byleth is rewarded with the occasional _ hnng _ when he desperately tries to keep his voice in check. 

The fluttering pain and being at her mercy immediately makes heat pool in Claude’s body, he almost feels safe, in a way; being completely at her disposal and control. Taken care of in her own twisted way. A toy for her to chew and discard. He would throw himself at her feet a thousand times over if it meant feeling the same sense of helplessness he does now. 

She dribbles more on him, giving him no moment of respite as he clenches and unclenches his hands and bucks his hip every now and then. Finally, Byleth takes a small step back and appraises her own work. He had brought golden candles, because _ of course _ he has, and when the wax dries it almost has a metallic sheen to it. She had been attempting to make a _ B _on his chest but considering he’s sitting up right up the wax had trailed down his skin before drying, making the letter barely visible. For him to be at her complete control makes her wetter than anything else, and she knows she’ll cum several times before this is over.

_ Oh well, _she thinks, she doesn’t mind. She then takes the moment to appreciate how the wax contrasts so nicely with his skin, and how his flushed face looks so heavenly. His mouth is agape but she’s sure his eyes are tightly screwed shut. His lips are glistened with spit, and his whole body is trembling slightly.

Moving the candle slightly she watches the wax shimmer in the low light, then tilts it slightly so wax falls on of his hands and she’s rewarded with a sharp inhale and his cock becoming fully erect. She then begins walking away to search for something in her luggage.

Hearing the shuffle she makes, Claude gives a low, long sigh. While in hindsight he really should have anticipated his darling wife would be devious enough to use wax on him, he hadn’t expected that she wouldn’t actually touch him yet except for one slap to his thigh. He finds he doesn’t mind as much as he thought, as brief but continuous biting pain he literally can’t escape from is quickly becoming a favourite of his.

He’s brought back out of his reverie when he hears footsteps approaching him, followed by searing pressure being applied to one of his nipples, making his whole body do a sudden jump he thinks he might have lifted the chair off the floor. 

“Y-You’ve,” he gasps, his lungs suddenly constricting, “You’ve bought… your n-nipple clamps?”

No sooner had he finished his question does he feel the same pressure being applied to his other nipple and he makes a broken sound.

“Men like you,” she says as she gives a light tug to the chain connecting the two clamps and Claude feels his whole chest move forward with it, “need to be disciplined.” Despite her words, she says it gently, and tilts the candle in her other hand to drop rivulets on his clamped nipples. She watches him shiver and tremble at the sensation of both pressure and heat.

She traces more meaningless patterns across his body, slivering up his bicep before doing circles on his chest and stomach. It’s only when he goes dangerously close his to groin does Claude register that he’s panting and drooling like a dog.

He hears her huff a breath and realizes she blew out the candle when he then hears her place it on the ground. Then she leans in, leans in so close he can feel her breath against his ear—but she doesn’t touch him.

“Tell me,” her words are punctuated with another tug at the clamps, but this time it’s sharper and the wax on it cracks with some pieces falling off, “what you want.” The pressure on his nipples seem to increase tenfold, the sensation making him arch his back towards her.

Claude huffs a breath like he’s just had the wind knocked out of him, “Y-You know t-that.. _ hnnng.” _

She blows another hot breath against his ear again, delighting in how he tenses his shoulders. “Actually, I don’t think I do. Use your words, little deer.”

Claude clenches his teeth hard enough he thinks he might shatter one, but keeps his mouth shut. He knows this game, and he knows Byleth likes it when he acts difficult. 

Her breath leaves his ear as she moves away from him. He hears her tapping her foot on the floorboards, as if she’s a schoolmistress admonishing an errant student.

_ We’ll have to roleplay that later. _

“I won’t do anything if you don’t say anything. I think I’ll leave you here to be discovered by the guards later,” her voice is a honeyed whisper. 

Then he hears her footsteps move away from him… and the door opening.

“W-Woah, hey—!” The door is closed and he hear walk down the steps and eventually the sounds fade away.

She left.

_ She fucking left me! _

He’s stunned into complete silence, and when his mind finally decides to catch up to him he experimentally tugs at his bindings. Just like before, there’s no way he’ll be able to escape from his prison without outside assistance. He shifts in his seat slightly, suddenly becoming intensely aware of the splotches of dry wax coating his skin and his sweat flowing down in between them. 

He’s heard of this, he thinks, something called neglect play. Something to emphasize Claude’s submission and helplessness, which is what certainly Byleth _excels_ in regardless of what she’s doing with him. But he didn’t think it was something Byleth was really that much interested in playing out considering it was never a topic they had discussed in-depth before. He starts to grow slightly agitated at the thought.

Before he can think about it more he hears a patter of footsteps quickly make their way upstairs and he realizes that Byleth hadn’t left him for longer than five minutes. He relaxes.

_ Am I really that impatient? _

He justifies his prior agitation by inwardly saying to himself that _ no, I’m not impatient. I’m just horny as fuck and would really like my wife to touch me right about now-!!! _

The doors swing open and close just as quickly. There’s some heavy breathing. He can tell she’s been running but she doesn’t say anything, so Claude takes the bait.

“Byleth.”

“Claude.” She says with a light huff.

“_ Byleth.” _That came out like a proper whine.

He hears snickering, “Really, Claude. Use your words.”

Claude begins breathing heavily like he’s about to cry, he tries bucking his hips at her as best as he can to emphasize his need to release. “P-Please… I-I just.. I just want to be _ touched _.”

“You want me to touch you, is that it?” Her voice is full of mirth.

He blows a breath out of his nose, “Getting a k-kick out of my humiliation, huh? C-Cruel woman…”

“Believe me, little deer, I can humiliate you profoundly without ever saying a cruel word.”

He hears her footsteps approach him and he steels himself by clenching his hands for what feels like the umpteenth time, his fingernails biting into the palm of his hand. Byleth taps at one of the splotches of dried wax on his skin, and using significantly more pressure than what is needed, she uses her fingernail to scrape it off, intentionally going slow and denting his skin by pressing down. She’s _ scratching _him.

Claude gives her multiple hitched breaths as she continues scratching some more wax off of him, replacing the light pink marks left by the wax with angry, harsh red lines, like a cat taking down its prey. Before Claude can fully immerse himself in the new, almost blinding sensation of pain it’s replaced sheering cold that rakes itself across Claude’s body without warning. He barks out a shrill yelp and he knows he won’t be able to defend himself from future teasing. 

“I-Ice..?” He rasps, throat suddenly dry as a desert, “Where’d-?”

“Lysithea, she’s very resourceful in times like these.” Byleth says as she harshly scratches more wax off him, only to scrape the stinging ice over his skin just as harshly. “I think we ought to give her a raise sometime.”

Right. He had forgotten Lysithea joined them. She probably chilled some water with her magic.

As Byleth continues her merciless assault on Claude’s skin, she delights in his noises, the gasps and cries, and takes the time to follow appreciate the way he writhes and keens at her movements. Despite his body is covered in golden wax, red scratches and waterfalls of wetness, she thinks he looks gorgeous. He has goosebumps from the cold. Time to… warm him up again.

She suddenly steps away from him and Claude whines at the loss of touch. She quickly picks up another candle, almost fully melted since they’ve been going at it for a while now, and splashes some of the wax on his bare, wet and frigid skin. Then she mixes the icicle with the still wet and hot wax. Claude throws his head back and gives a prolonged grunt, obviously trying to keep his mouth shut to avoid screaming the house down.

Despite being blindfolded, Claude swears he just sees a vision of white now, his toes curl and his back arches. The stimulation of just so many forces makes him think his head might just explode, it certainly feels like his lower abdomen might. The pressure builds and builds, and just when he thinks he’s going to ejaculate he hears something thrown to the ground and feels an iron clasp on his dick. 

This time, he doesn’t bother holding back whining and bucks his hips again. She’s grabbed him with the hand that was holding the ice, he can feel the coldness on her hands. 

“B-Byleth… haa…”

He feels her hot breath as she blows some air on his tip. “I wonder if I should put some wax here? To seal you up properly?”

He really shouldn’t be as turned on as he is by the thought of it but he can’t help himself, and precum is just barely able to leak out of him. Byleth gives him one, slow lick to lap it up while still gripping him hard enough to prevent him his release. Byleth tilts the candle in her other hand just a tad and a rivulet falls on the base of Claude’s penis. His legs jump but his bindings keep him from accidentally kneeing Byleth in the face. The stinging of the rope only exacerbates the growing feeling of discomfort of not being being allowed to cum.

“Tell me what you want, Claude.” 

“I-I want… I want to-” His voice is wobbly and he’s pretty sure he’s crying behind the blindfold, “Please, I want to c-cum..”

He hears her put out the candle before setting it down before putting both her hands on his cock and then slowly, torturously slowly, begins jerking him off. Claude sniffles, and when he takes a deep breath it almost feels as the clamps on his nipples tighten. 

“I… I-I’m… hah-haa...” Claude can feel every ounce of muscle inside him begin to tighten up as the heat in his stomach feels as though it’s been struck by lightning. Finally he’ll-

“_ Whoopsie _!” Suddenly, he feels the two deceptively lithe hands completely leave his length, the loss of stimulation denying him release yet again. 

Claude suddenly arches forward to huff out a long, drawn out groan. He can feel his drool drop onto his thighs. “_ Please _!”

“Please, what?” Her fingernails lightly trail his thighs, going towards his cock but never reaching it

“Please let me cum!” He wails, arching his spine backward to an almost uncomfortable looking degree. 

That seems to do the trick as he feels some tender lips kiss his tip before it’s replaced by her hands again. She begins jerking him off in earnest now, lifting herself up to consume his mouth with hers. His entire body convulses as ejaculates in her hands. When she removes her lips from his he pants heavily, and his body goes limp, though there is the occasional twitching. 

Byleth, her hands now coated with cum, lifts his blindfold off to look into half-lidded and glazed eyes. She takes the opportunity to stick two fingers into his mouth, making him taste himself. Being as exhausted as he is, he is only able to give some half hearted sucks and licks before gagging when Byleth pushes further down enough.

She was right, he does look good when he’s sucking her fingers while crying.

**Author's Note:**

> Tbh I'm very against the expectation that women should take their husband's last name after marriage. I like to headcanon that Fódlan follows a matrilineal system where men take their wive's last name while Almyra is patrilineal, so Byleth and Claude were like whatever let's combine our names. 
> 
> I initially wanted to do an expanded ending that included more banter and maybe some aftercare but, like, I felt as though it was such a nice call-back to Byleth wanting to gag him with her fingers. So I decided to end it there. 
> 
> Next up, provided I'm not sidetracked by something, will be petplay. And hopefully longer, too. And with banter with other characters, but I've yet to decide who or how.
> 
> Finally, with this the publication of this story, both Like pages of an open book and Flechazo has reached 3000+ hits! Thank ya kindly. ❤_(:3 」∠)_


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